


The Sweetest Dream Will [Never] Do

by megyal



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-10-15
Updated: 2006-10-15
Packaged: 2017-10-27 04:37:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/291701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megyal/pseuds/megyal





	The Sweetest Dream Will [Never] Do

_I could stay awake just to hear you breathing  
Watch you smile while you are sleeping,  
While you're far away and dreaming.._

 _-Don't Want to Miss A Thing,_ Aerosmith

Pete had simply brushed his teeth and taken off the eyeliner, but by the time he gently bumped his way through the dark to the bed, Patrick was already fast asleep. Pete felt a little annoyed, taking up the covers and slipping beneath them. He lay on his side, resting on one elbow and taking in Patrick's face by the deep orange slivers of the streetlight fanning over his pale features. Patrick lay in his typical start-mode: flat on his back, arms flung up over his head, head turned to one side. He looked so young, instead of a man in his early twenties, and Pete reflexively started to breathe slower, matching the sedate pace of Patrick's breathing. A small smile brushed across Patrick's lips and Pete couldn't help himself.

He gave Patrick a poke in the ribs.

And then another, until Patrick grunted and a sleepy blue gaze was suddenly fixed on Pete. Pete tried to look sheepish, and then pressed his hip into the side of Patrick's thigh. Patrick's eyes widened at the feel of Pete's hardness, and then he gave a small smile.

"Can I help you with something, Mr. Wentz?"

"I was wondering," Pete supplied, "what you were dreaming about. And if it was me."

Patrick didn't answer immediately. The smooth pale hand nearest to Pete rose up and the back of it was used to stroke slowly down the side of Pete's face. The hand turned languidly as it reached Pete's bare chest, thumb flicking curiously at Pete's nipple and then slipping with frank familiarity into the shorts Pete was wearing and held onto Pete's cock with reverence.

"Of course I was," Patrick murmured. "Do you want to know exactly what it was, before I was rudely awakened?"

Pete took a deep inhale. Patrick started to move his hand slightly, the angle deliciously awkward.

"Shoot," Pete said breathlessly.

"I was dreaming," Patrick started, almost conversationally, removing his hand, much to Pete's disappointment, and then to Pete's unfailing pleasure, moved up on his elbows and leaned forward to kiss Pete, "about that."

"Were you really?" Pete tried to sound not too excited, as Patrick turned and flung his leg over Pete's hip and shimmied closer, to press himself against Pete's groin. Pete groaned.

"I was," Patrick confirmed, starting to rock his hips, hard against hard. "And it was getting good too, but you woke me up."

Pete pushed him back flat on the bed, pulling at Patrick's pajamas and yanking them off, murmuring _let me make it up to you, then_ , pushing Patrick's knees up; then sliding his hands down the inside of Patrick's thighs and taking his cock without warning into his warm wet mouth, listening to Patrick make incomprehensible sounds. He liked reducing Patrick to wordless wonder like this. It was good for his ego.

He let his tongue slide flat against the veined length as Patrick's hands pushed eagerly through his hair. He could feel Patrick holding back underneath him, trying not to thrust up and choke him, but he released him and whispered against his thigh, Patrick's musky scent filling his whole existence, "You can let go. I can take it."

"No," Patrick gasped. "No, no, not yet."

Pete ignored this, though, focusing on the heaviness of Patrick's balls, licking at them until Patrick seemed to be holding his breath, and arching helplessly. He bit Patrick thoughtfully in the crease of thigh and crotch, and then his tongue slinked down and poked at the puckered ring of muscle at Patrick's entrance; Pete was highly amused as Patrick literally jumped, as if he was goosed, and then whimpered as Pete got more confident, lapping, pressing, exploring. He was getting so into it, now licking slowly again at the straining cock offered to him, letting his fingers intrude where his tongue had been, twisting, parting, opening, that he almost didn't realise that Patrick was _begging_.

"Oh, shit," Patrick was saying. "Ready. I'm ready, just. Stop, _please_ , I'm ready."

Pete made sure to slide against him, all the way up, and lounged right over and against him, but Patrick pushed him off, grinning a little, obviously recovered a bit from Pete's onslaught.

"I know how you like it," Patrick informed him archly. "Don't you want me on my hands and knees?"

Part of Pete's brain was literally yelling OH FUCK YES but he thought it would be more polite to simply give the affirmative in a trembling voice. Patrick was still grinning, looking like the cat that got into the cream, and he reached under Pete's pillow and found the lube and gave it to him and turned over, continuing the visual simile of a feline as he arched and stretched on all fours, killing a few billion brain cells of Pete's, death by sheer lust. Pete slicked the lube onto himself, and grabbed onto Patrick, sliding in and moaning probably far too loudly, and then compensating by biting Patrick's shoulder, making him cry out as well. Pete started a slow rhythm, encased in the warm grip of Patrick and, without even thinking, made an unexpected move. He rocked back to rest on his own heels, pulling Patrick with him so that Patrick was sitting firmly on his lap...and on his cock, his back pressed to Pete's stomach. Patrick hissed and then swayed back and forward, riding Pete, and Pete ground his hips in a circular motion.

Patrick went back to the breathless begging.

"Please... _fuck_ , please, Pete."

"What do you want me to do?" Pete asked, trying to keep it slow, hands gripping Patrick's hips still, because this was fucking genius. "Do you want me to touch you?"

"Yes. God, _yes_."

"Where?"

Patrick moaned as Pete thrust his hips up, shuddering.

"Say it."

"Pete.... _please_..."

"Say it."

"Touch me, Pete. Anywhere. My cock, anywhere, everywhere, just please-" and Patrick went into a sharp keening sound as Pete grabbed onto his cock and slid his greased palm up and over the head of it, and then down again. He could feel Patrick clench all around him, gasping, Patrick's short sensible nails raking up the sides of his thighs, and he continued to mark the creamy skin at the top of Patrick's spine and he was coming, he was _coming_ and Patrick was writhing on him and around him and he was there, lights and sound exploding around him and Pete

Snapped awake, breathing hard and looking straight into Patrick's eyes, fixed on his face. Patrick was sitting straight up in bed and gazing down at him, backlit by the bedside lamp.

"What a show," Patrick commented in a low tone, his eyes venturing brazenly to the dampened front of Pete's pajamas and then back up to Pete's flushed face. Pete closed his eyes and smiled a little, still struggling with deep breaths, and he felt Patrick's cool hand against his jaw.

"What were you dreaming about, Pete?" Patrick seemed to have a laugh threading through his voice. "Was it me?"

"Of course," Pete chuckled, turning his face and pressing his mouth into that hand. "Give me a few minutes. I'll show you what it was about."


End file.
